


Homecoming

by Orichalxos



Category: Oz - L. Frank Baum
Genre: Comfort, Genderqueer Character, Other, aunt em has a bunch of unexamined gender and class biases, genderqueer character misread as male, mentions of past emotional / physical abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28130208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orichalxos/pseuds/Orichalxos
Summary: A nice young person with experience on a farm comes to help Aunt Em with the chores for a celebration.Meanwhile, Ozma isn't in the Palace, and Dorothy goes looking for them.
Relationships: Dorothy Gale/Princess Ozma
Comments: 9
Kudos: 37
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ErinPtah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinPtah/gifts).



The boy knocked a second time on the doorframe, and Em looked up from kneading the biscuit dough. “Missus Gale? I’m from the City. You said you needed help? They said - There was a letter.” 

The youth was small, dressed in slightly faded purple clothes, with bright green eyes and dark hair, carrying a little bindle on a stick slung over his shoulder. He stood at the threshold, shifting from side to side. 

She’d been expecting one of Dorothy’s friends - Trot, or Betsy perhaps. Had the Princess sent her someone from a service, like the hired girls who’d come out to the ranches in Kansas? This boy looked...a little scared, honestly. Where had the Princess found him? Well, she needed the help, and it looked like he needed the work. Could probably use an extra biscuit, too, from the way he was looking at the ones resting on the sideboard. 

“Well. They sent you?” The boy nodded. “Come in, then. I’d been expecting one of the girls, but I suppose Princesses of Oz can’t spend their time churning butter and picking berries. Wouldn’t be right.” Em dusted her hands on her apron and gestured for him to come in. “Set your things down over there. There’s a cot made up for you in the corner, if you don’t mind sharing the room. What’s your name, then?”

“It’s T-t-tarius --Tarry. My name’s Tarry.” The boy came in, put down his bindle on the cot, and looked around the room. Yes, he was scared, Em thought. Most boys’d be swaggering around pretty fast after arriving, but he was still looking around with those big eyes.

“Tarry, then. So. Just let me set this dough out to rise and then we’ll get started. You come from a farm? Can you do chores?”

“Yes, Missus Gale. The letter said you needed someone who could help with making a feast while Mister Gale is away.” Tarry followed Em as she headed outside, picking up a basket as she went. 

“That’s right.” She looked over her shoulder, then turned to eye Tarry appraisingly. “I don’t suppose you can bake a pie, can you?” At Tarry’s meek head-shake, she planted a hand on her hip. “Too much to hope for, I guess. Can you gather eggs?” Nod. “Find the best blueberries?” Nod. “Churn butter?” Nod. “That’s all right, then. You’ll be a real help.” 

Tarry blinked at the compliment, then grinned a brilliant smile. Like the sun coming out from a cloud, thought Em. He’s eager to start. “Well, go to it! Here’s the basket. Eggs and berries, and don’t dally! Time’s ticking on.” she said, and shooed him off. 

***

It had started a bit like a game of hide-and-seek. Dorothy had woken up long after Ozma, and so wasn’t surprised when she didn’t see them at breakfast. The day had brought its own adventures, and Dorothy had been happily occupied until long past lunchtime, when she began missing her dear companion.

Perhaps with the other Princesses? Betsy and Trot were piloting a ship around the great fountains of the far garden, but had not seen Ozma, neither as Princess nor as Tip.

Not the dressmakers, nor the tailors, nor the sculptors, nor the grand orchestra of the Emerald City had seen Ozma. Toto trotted alongside as Dorothy made her way from shop to shop.

“Have you seen Ozma, Scraps?” she asked the Patchwork Girl, who was dancing through the gardens. “I’ve been up and down all over the city, and I think I’ve lost them.”

“You can’t _lose_ Ozma, silly,” said Scraps, hopping so that she touched every other yellow cobblestone. “I’ve lost stuffing before, but that’s because the wind blew it everywhere. And I didn’t lose my left button-eye--” which was, indeed, missing -- “because I know exactly where it is: rolled under the floor of the Woozy’s house, after our wrassling .” 

She turned a lazy cartwheel and a half and looked upside-down at Dorothy. “If I had brains like the Scarecrow, I could tell you something smart. But you’ll have to settle for clever. Besides, he’d say something like ‘did you look in the last place you left her?’ like she was a missing sock. Prob’ly Ozma knows where they are, so they’re not lost at all!”

_Oh the days may be long  
_ _As a poor singer’s song  
_ _And the Emerald City it glitters_

_But a sweetheart so gay_  
_Seems too far away  
_ _For a Kansas girl all-of-a-twitter!_

sang Scraps to Toto, as she hopped over him. He barked once or twice and rolled his eyes at Dorothy, as if to say _what did you expect?_

***

That afternoon, Tarry collected eggs, picked berries, and shucked corn with practiced ease. When the sun was going down, Em found herself looking for the bell she’d used in Kansas to call the hands in for supper. 

“Suppertime, Tarry! Come on back, and bring the rest of the corn with you!” The boy coming up the lane with hands full was so bright and vivid, so different from this morning, Em thought as she poured a tall glass of milk. “Wash your hands and face, now, and come on in for supper.” 

Fresh-faced and rosy-cheeked, Tarry looked almost as pretty as one of Dorothy’s girl friends, but he set to the biscuits and applesauce with more vigor than Trot or Betsy ever had. “Hungry, then?” Tarry nodded over a mouthful of biscuit. “It’s good to have the help with Henry out. Did you see if the cutlet-trees are ripe?” 

He dabbed at his lips with the napkin, then swallowed and answered. “Not yet, Missus Gale. I think it may be a day or two?” 

“Well, that’ll have to do, then.” She put out another serving of biscuits and butter. “So, Tarry...where did you learn to shuck corn like that?”

Tarry blushed bright pink. As if good farming was something to be ashamed of! He must have had such a hard time in the City. “I...used to live far off in Gillikin country. A little place. I learned to do chores there. Berrying, and butter, and fishing…there was a little stream not far from Momb - from the house.” 

Em waited. She was familiar with the rhythms of hired hands’ talk, even if Tarry was still a youth, and she could tell there was more to come. 

“I used to go fishing there for hours. And then there was a little stand of trees where birds nested, and a peach tree...it had the tastiest fruit I ever found. I don’t think I ever had anything like it since.” 

“Sounds lovely. I bet you haven’t had a chance to do all that in the City, have you?” He blinked and looked down at his plate, going a little pale. “Never you mind. You’ll rest well tonight, I’m sure. Finish up, ‘cause there’s still washing and churning and more to be done.” She cleared up the dishes and went to the side room. 

***

The Wizard was busily tinkering with a large contraption half-hidden under sheets and tarps when she came into his workshop. He gave a start and pulled one of the tarps over a console glittering with lights when he saw her. “Good afternoon, Dorothy! What brings you to my humble abode?” 

“I’ve been looking for Ozma, and thought you might have seen them. What are you working on?”

“Ah, no, Princess. Ozma has not brightened my door today, though many of our friends have come by - and therein may be the answer to your second question! Have you forgotten what is happening day after tomorrow? 

“Oh! Do you mean Aunt Em’s invitation?”

“Why yes! She, and your Uncle Henry, and many more of us decided to celebrate your Homecoming Day - the anniversary of the day you came to live here in Oz. But half the joy of such a feast comes from the surprise of its presents, so there have been a stream of people coming through, seeking things that will delight and astonish you, and asking me to keep mum about them.” He gave a delighted wink. “Although none have been so creative as the cake full of dancing monkeys you presented to Ozma.”

Dorothy laughed brightly at the memory. “Is Ozma preparing something in secret for me?” 

“I couldn’t say, Princess - no, truly, I don’t know! Though I must ask you not to peek under that blanket there” - where something was making little cheep-cheep sounds - “at least, not for a few more days.” He tightened a knob on the far side of the whatever-it-was. “Though, come to think of it, I did see our fair Ruler speaking with your Uncle Henry as he left last night on his own pursuit of a present.” “Are you sure? Ozma hasn’t ever talked much with Uncle Henry without me around.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed. Is there something wrong there?” 

“No, I don’t believe so. Just - When he and Aunt Em moved out to the cottage so soon after arriving, Ozma never got a chance to really know them. I think that they regret it, especially now that they and I are so close.” 

“Ahh yes. The opinion of one’s lover’s family is a treasure and a weight. I’m sure Ozma is deeply loved by them both, Dorothy, and I seem to remember Henry smiling as they finished their conversation.” 

That might explain it, then. Surprises were well and good, and she’d surely see Ozma once they were done with making it. Surely. No need to worry.

***

The dishes were done and she’d shown Tarry how to put the butter molds into the freezorator. Mister Diggs the Wizard had lent the freezorator specially to Em so that she could prepare the feast, and she’d already packed it halfway full of food. When she got back from the pump, Tarry had already laid a little fire in the hearth, right near her rocker. 

Such a thoughtful lad, she thought, settling in with her sewing basket and the sampler. He sat in front of the fire, staring into the flames. 

After a while he asked what she was mending. “It’s a sampler. Never taught to sew, I reckon?” Tarry nodded and shifted so he was sitting at her feet, looking up with those big eyes. “Well, we should fix that. Tomorrow daylight I’ll teach you to put on a button. Every child ought to know that.” 

“What’s it for?” 

“Oh, it’s a present. A sampler is something you practice your stitches on, then hang on a wall to make it pretty. We had them in the old farmhouse, before the cyclone. See?” The simple sampler had the alphabet bordered by flowers, and the center would eventually say _Love Makes a House a Home_. “Dorothy loved the one near her bed. She learned her first letters from it.” Em pulled through another stitch, then winced as the needle pricked her thumb. 

“Why do it by hand, if it hurts? Could you ask Glinda to make one? I heard there was a magic loom in Gillikin country.”

Em sniffed. “Some things are just better if you put the time into making them yourself. You can get just about anything in Oz, if you’re willing to go galumphing off anywhere. This one’s for her and Ozma’s new rooms, now that they’re living together. If Glinda made one, I’m sure it would be perfect and beautiful...probably more than this will be, I’d bet. If it came from her, though, there’s still one thing it wouldn’t be.”

“What’s that?”

“Made by me.” 

“It’s pretty,” said Tarry. Outside, the crickets chirped and the fireflies danced in the fields.

***

Where _did_ I leave Ozma? Dorothy asked herself. The last time she’d seen them, they had been out on the star-watching balcony at the highest point of the Emerald City, counting the falling stars and telling stories…

_“...and when we brought the last mule in, it was wearing Uncle Henry’s hat!” Dorothy and Ozma dissolved into giggles. They sighed happily, and fell into a gentle silence._

_“It’s odd to think so much about Before, isn’t it? But it’s been on my mind ever since Aunt Em’s letter arrived. She wants all of us to come for Homecoming Day - the girls, and the Lion and Tiger, and just about everybody!”_

_“I remember that day. I was so happy to know you’d never have to go back, far away from us. From me. And then you went around the countryside with them, and the Nome King tried to invade…” Ozma popped an orange slice in their mouth thoughtfully. “Dorothy, do you know why your Aunt and Uncle left the palace? I had so hoped they would all join us, one family together.”_

_“Oh Ozma, it surely couldn’t have been a bad reason! The Palace is perfectly lovely, and I don’t see how anyone could want to be away from you.” This won her a smile, and another orange slice._

_“Is it maybe - have you told them about us moving in together? Or about Tip?” Tip was how Ozma thought of themselves when they presented as a boy; Princess was for girl-presenting times._

_“Aunt Em knew you and I were in love before I did! But I haven’t gotten the chance to come and visit for a while. So Uncle Henry knows about Tip, though I think he hasn’t explained it all to Aunt Em yet. She’s a little less traveled than he is.”_

_Dorothy paused. “You might have liked to see Kansas, you know. I remember swimming in the creek, climbing up the apple trees, chasing all those fluffy hens round the chicken coop...” Dorothy smiled, imagining Ozma at the kitchen table in the farmhouse. “I don’t miss it, ‘zactly, but it would have been good to share with you.”_

_Ozma mirrored her smile. “I’d love that, dear one.”_

_“What about you? Do you want to go back to anywhere, do any of the things you did when you were little?” Dorothy shook herself. “Oh, silly question. I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to do anything that reminds you of Mombi.”_

_Ozma was silent for a long time - too long, in Dorothy’s memory. They’d had the strangest expression on their face, then leaned in for a kiss and changed the subject._

Remembering it now, Dorothy tried to figure out what Ozma had been thinking. Had they been upset at Dorothy for reminding them of those times? No, they would have never have taken offense, or would have gently said something if so. But perhaps the reminder had pulled them back into sad thoughts. Perhaps Ozma had simply needed to be away for a while. 

***

The next morning, Tarry piled pancakes on his plate while Em pitted cherries. “...and then we need to see if the cutlets are ripe, water the sweetberry bush, gather honey from the silverbee hives, and if the weather holds I might send you into town for more flour for the pie crusts.”

“Yes, Missus Gale. Um...can you tell me what it’s all for? Couldn’t you ask the Palace for a feast?”

“Huh! I s’pose I didn’t explain it all in the letter that brought you. Well. You know I’m Princess Dorothy’s Aunt Em? This is a big real Kansas home-cooked dinner for her and all her friends. All the best things I ever made - and a few that I never got to make in Kansas but can try out here.” 

“It’s like the sampler, isn’t it?” Tarry asked. “You could ask Mister Gale to bring back a feast, or have the Wizard magic up a meal, but you want to make this for her. To remind her of home.”

“I knew you were sharp. Not quite - _Oz_ is home, hers and ours now.” She pulled the pit out of another cherry. “So this ain’t to remind her of there, but to celebrate being here.” 

Em got up from the table, placing a cloth over the cherry bowl. “I remember when she brought us here to Oz. I showed up with dish suds on my hands and dust in my hair. I’d been washing a plate and tried to hide it under my apron while I remembered proper manners.“

She washed her hands at the sink. Never had the chance to say this to anyone, she thought, not even Henry. Something about Tarry made her feel safe. “I never quite settled in. Always felt a little grey, and old, and common, among all that finery.” 

Em glanced over at Tarry. “You understand, right? I just couldn’t figure how to be - well, me - in among all those emeralds and silver and rubies.”

“Is that why you moved out here?”

“Well, in a way. Henry did just about the kindest thing for me. I didn’t know how to ask for it, but he knew I was missing the quiet of the farm in all those constant people, people, people of the Palace. I tried asking for just a back attic somewheres, but Hen knew what I really needed, and we ended up here. Somewhere we might set a cottage, not so far from the City that Dorothy couldn’t visit, but far enough away that the crowds were few.”

Em looked off to the horizon as she dried her hands. “So now that we’re here in Oz, I can do it _right_ . I never could make all this for Dorothy in Kansas, you see. I had to run a farm where we all fed proper, with less and less coming in to pay for it...so there never was enough for a little luxury. Never more than a little; had to stretch the jam so it’d last, especially in the last year...Dorothy would never ask for more, because she knew I’d have to say no. This supper will be all things that she loved in Kansas. Here in Oz I can give her _enough_ of them.”

***

The new day had not brought comfort to Dorothy - no word of reassurance or message from her beloved, no hints about what they were doing, why they were gone so long.

In the back of her mind was the dreadful moment when Ozma had gone missing, transformed by Ugu the Shoemaker. Farther back beyond that was the memory of an emerald grasshopper, perfect and bright, bound by the Nome King’s magic. No reason to worry. Not yet. Surely. 

She paced through their chambers, from boudoir to sitting room, through the throne room and back, until Toto sat on the green carpet before the throne and whined. 

“Oh, Toto, I’m afraid it’s no good! I’m almost all sure they’re fine, but that little bit of me that isn’t sure is so very loud! Wouldn’t they have come home by now?”

Toto wuffed, then trotted over to the great curtains that led to the chamber of the Magic Picture. It could tell her where Ozma was, but it felt so terribly wrong to snoop, to ruin the surprise...but what if Ozma was in danger? 

Toto cocked his head and looked at her, began to nose past the curtains, and looked back. _I can look for you,_ he implied.

“Would you? But only tell me if they’re in danger.” 

Toto wuffed and wriggled past the curtains. Dorothy held her breath, then jumped when Toto began barking furiously. Before she could pull back the curtain herself, Toto had dragged one open to reveal -

Nothing but a blank wall where the Picture had hung. 

***

The secret to a really excellent berry pie, Em knew, was to stew half the berries till they were almost jam, then let that cool before filling the crusts. With Tarry working so hard all morning, they’d gotten really far in the Homecoming preparations. By tomorrow the only thing to do would be to set out the tables, bring the food out from the freezorator, put out pitchers of lemonade, and be ready for guests.

What a good lad, she thought. Tomorrow she’d have to make sure he took the early afternoon to do whatever he wanted. Probably fishing, just like Hen on long lazy afternoons. 

Tarry should meet Dorothy, they’d get along well. She’d be able to bring him out of that shy shell, make more of those pretty smiles go across his face. 

Not that Dorothy wasn’t happy with Ozma, of course; the two of them were so dearly in love that it made her glow. But Em had always worried that Ozma was...well...too high-society for dear Dorothy. Snobbish, never! Just...maybe Dorothy missed someone to go fishing with, or tree climbing, or berrying, or all the sort of things that Rulers of Oz surely never did. 

Tarry could be that kind of friend, reflected Em. She turned back to the big black kettle where the berries were stewing away, added a pinch of nutmeg from a packet in her apron pocket, then a bit more of the silverbee honey. The berries bubbled up and a hot spatter struck her hand. She hissed and screwed her face up in pain.

A shocked little gasp from the door made her look up. Tarry stood in the doorway, carrying a bushel full of apples. Dropping the apples, he scrambled sideways - right into the pile of dishes set out to dry. 

There was a terrific crash, and Em screamed in startlement. Tumbled onto the floor, Tarry scooted backwards, away from her, eyes wide and terrified.

Em took a deep breath and counted to ten. So much more to do, and now the crockery to clean up...Well. Nothing to do but what’s to be done. She sighed, kneeled down, and reached out to gather the dishes into her apron.

From the corner of her eye she saw Tarry flinch away from her, bringing one arm up in front of his face.

He thinks I mean to hit him, she realized. He thinks I’m about ready to whale into him over a few crashed plates. What kind of place had this poor boy _been_ , that he expected to be hit for an accident? And not just hit, but truly beaten, given the way he was trembling. 

Slowly and carefully, she gathered up the fallen plates. Well. Give him something to do, then. That ought to help. Don’t pry. Without making eye contact, Em said calmly, “Tarry, be a dear and hand me that broken plate that’s behind you.” 

She could hear his breathing hitch, then slow. She held out her hand for the plate. “While you’re over there, check to see if any fell behind the sink?” Stacking the plates gently, she then sat back, not looking over to see if he was responding. “There’s that, then. Now. That must have been a bump; no scrapes on your knees, Tarry?”

“N-no, Missus Gale.” She risked a glance over at him, and saw he was breathing easier. Whatever he’d imagined would happen was passing, it seemed. 

“Well, then. No need to worry over a few dishes. Can you go gather up the apples while I get back to the berries?”

“Yes’m. Is...is berries what’s in there?” He pointed to the kettle with a slightly shaky finger. 

“Why, yes. For the pies. See?” She rose and stirred up the kettle again - good, nothing burnt - then blew on a spoonful for a tiny taste. “Still needs more honey, I b’lieve,” she reflected, and saw Tarry visibly relax as she finished the spoonful. 

When he came back in with the apples (a little bruised, but that wouldn’t matter in a tart), he made a little gesture, something between a bow and a curtsey. “I’m sorry, Missus Gale. When I came in, you were bending over the kettle, and you looked…”

Some pieces fell into place for Em. “I must have looked like one of those Witches from before Dorothy came, is that what you’re trying to say?” She felt a little insulted, but Dorothy had said things were very bad for Oz before the good witches and Ozma took over. “Well. I’ve never been mistaken for magic before, good or bad. I can tell you, there’s no more magic in this house than what I brought from the Palace.”

Tarry sat down to start peeling the apples, then looked up at her and gave one of those bright smiles. “No...there’s magic here too. The good kind.” 

***

“I am truly sorry, Dorothy, but the Book cannot help you in this.” The sorceress Glinda sat resplendent on her ruby throne. “I have looked over the last day, and all it has told me of Ozma is that they are covered by a veil of secrets.” 

“Nothing? Not even on the day Ozma left?”

“No, nothing more than _They set out from the Emerald City alone, taking the Magic Picture._ But why should this cause you concern?”

Dorothy bent her head. “It’s a relief that the Magic Picture is with Ozma. But I’m worried because last night, just before dinner, I got the strongest sense - the feeling that Ozma was in danger, that they were frightened. It was just a minute, but I couldn’t shake it.”

“Then that is cause for concern. I shall send out my guards to see if any strange magics have been worked upon the land. Stay here tonight, and in the morning you and your friends can set out on your search. Where will you go from here?”

***

The pies were done and the fire crackled happily. Tarry and Em sat side by side at the table, Tarry coaxing thread through a needle as he started on another practice button. The firefly lantern’s glow lit their faces.

“Almost done by now,” she said. “Henry should be back tomorrow noon, and we’ll have the tables and everything set out just so by the time Dorothy comes from the City late afternoon.” She leaned back from the almost-finished sampler. “So, Tarry...is your family back in Gillikin land, or in the Emerald City?”

Tarry shook his head. “No, Missus Gale. I never knew them. They’re either gone away, or passed on. The earliest thing I can remember is Mo - is the place I told you about.” 

“Where you learned fishing and pickling and berrying.” If Em was any judge, that’s where Tarry’d grown up expecting to be yelled at or hit. “I see.” Another orphan, just like Dorothy. Only Tarry must have had to go into service, doing chores and working for what sounded like a terrible shrew. 

Em had known too many children like that, sent off to work and ending up in horrible conditions. Gone from the bright color of childhood to worn-out before they even became adults. Her heart had just about broke when they had feared Dorothy would have to go as well. Thank goodness they had all come to Oz. “I gather she wasn’t any of your people, the woman who raised you.”

“No. No, she wasn’t. She wasn’t exactly a witch, but she wasn’t not one either.” Tarry stared past the needle he was trying to thread, lost deep in the past. His green eyes filled with tears, and Em hurriedly looked away. No need to embarrass the child by staring. “She...She was a horrible old woman.”

A long, long silence. Well, that settles it, thought Em. “Tarry. You’re a good child, and you didn’t deserve whatever she did. You _do_ deserve a home. So no more Missus Gale, Tarry. You call me Aunty Em. Far as I’m concerned you count as family here, just like Ozma and the little Princesses at the Palace. You come stay here whenever you want.” 

She looked sideways at the boy, whose face had an unreadable expression - joy? confusion? “Tomorrow I’m setting a place at the table for you special.” 

Tarry squirmed. “I don’t...think I can stay, Aunty Em. I have to get back to the city by afternoon.” 

“They won’t let you stay for even a day?” Em composed herself. “You can say no, you hear? I don’t know what kind of service wouldn’t give you time...You can say no to them, and I’ll say no with you.”

Tarry didn’t respond. Em kept the rest of her thoughts to herself. You deserve a happy childhood too, she thought. This is Oz, after all, where meanness and hard times shouldn’t ever be. 

What is Princess Ozma _doing_ , if there’s someone out there who hurt Tarry so? Shouldn’t she be doing something about that? Em had always respected the girl - she was royalty, after all, you couldn’t judge royalty, and she’d shown them so much kindness - but shouldn’t an Empress of Oz keep an eye on the little people like Tarry? 

After a long moment of sewing in silence, Tarry volunteered, “I heard that at the birthday celebrations for Princess Dorothy, they have melons. There’s a watermelon patch down the creek that I saw the other day. Do you think she’d like one?”

“I think that would be just right.” 

***

“...And with the picture gone, and Glinda’s Book saying only that it’s a secret, I thought of you and how you knew where Ozma was when they were stolen away.” 

Dorothy’s entourage had grown since visiting Glinda; the Tin Woodsman, the Scarecrow, Trot, Betsy, and more had all joined in as part adventure, part search. They had followed her this morning to the outskirts of Bear Land.

The Scarecrow spoke up. “Do you think Ugu the Shoemaker has turned to his bad ways again?”

“Not ‘zactly, no - but I can’t shake the bad feeling I had when I saw her last. So I wanted to ask the Little Pink Bear, because he never - “

“He never makes a mistake!” crowed the Bear King. “Then let us see what he can tell us!” He held the Little Pink Bear upon his lap, turned the crank, and asked:

“Where is Ozma?”

The Little Pink Bear opened its clockwork mouth, and announced: “In the service of an old woman.” 

Jack Pumpkinhead, who had been ambling around the parade grounds behind her, brought a knobbly hand to his mouth. “Oh! Do you think it was old Mombi, the witch? She was a terrible old woman, mean-spirited and deceitful, and it was she who had hidden Ozma away for so long. We fled when she brewed up a magic potion to turn Ozma to stone. Even Glinda couldn’t find Ozma at first, they were so hidden by Mombi’s spell.” 

“An old woman?” repeated Dorothy. “But what could keep Ozma there?” _Why haven’t they come home to me?_

The Little Pink Bear answered again: “A hidden identity.”

Dorothy shivered. “Do you think Mombi has returned? If she was strong enough to transform Ozma, maybe she would try again! We could send out people to find her - Dear Little Pink Bear, where is this old woman?” 

“In a house to the north of the Emerald City, finishing her great plans.”

***

It was getting on toward noon and Henry hadn’t arrived yet. Tarry had headed down to the creek to find those watermelons. When Em had asked where he’d like to be seated, he got that funny expression again and wouldn’t say. 

Well. She’d definitely have _words_ with whoever sent him without so much as a day of rest. 

So now Em was by herself setting out the tables in the west field, trying to count and recount the guests. The ones who eat human-style, here; the ones who need room for animal-style eating, there; the Woodsman and the Scarecrow and the others who don’t eat, over here, straw for the horses and fish for the Kitten...wait, who was that over at the farmhouse? Uniformed men? And why were they entering without even knocking? 

Em hurried over to the gate and called. “You there! What nerve, walking into a house as bold as brass!” He wasn’t one she recognized - not the Private, not any of the Generals, and he looked like he didn’t recognize her either. What - they were searching her house! 

“Ma’am, we’re here with orders from the Palace, to look for --”

Still holding a golden fork, she advanced on the confused guard. “No, you won’t! You’re after Tarry, and you don’t get to just haul him back without so much as a by-your-leave! He gets to stay where he wants to stay, you awful man, and he doesn’t have to work for anyone he doesn’t want to!” She flapped her apron at the assembled guards as if they were a flock of unruly chicks.

Just then the sound of people coming up the road caused them both to turn around. Stepping out from the Chariot was her Dorothy, looking as frustrated as Em had ever seen her. Henry - _finally! -_ came behind her, and the whole dear gaggle of friends were following behind. 

“There! Thank goodness you’re early, Dorothy dear - now tell this _person_ that they can just clear off and head back to the City, because this is a home for you and Tarry and all your friends. No one has to leave if they don’t want to, not on the day we came to stay!

“Aunt Em? What do you mean? Where’s Ozma -- and who is Tarry?”

Em launched into an explanation, gesturing with apron and fork like a domestic gladiator, and when she paused for breath in her - well, not _rant_ exactly, more of an extremely opinionated perspective - there was a quiet little throat-clearing from the side of the house, where Tarry was standing holding a large watermelon. “Dorothy?” 

Em moved to stand protectively between Tarry and the guard. “Tarry, they wanted to bring you back, but you don’t have to go. You can say no to them, and you can stay here with us whenever you want. Dorothy will say so too, won’t you Dorothy?”

But Dorothy was looking past Em’s shoulder, clasping her hands together in joy. “You’re here! You’re safe! Oh Ozma _dear_ , I was so terribly worried!” She ran to Tarry and threw her arms around him, covering his face with kisses.

In Dorothy’s embrace, Tarry ran a hand through his hair, which lengthened into shining dark ringlets. He spoke a magic word and his faded Gillikin farm clothes transformed into elegant silks. So little changed - a shift in the hips, a slight adjustment in stance - but once they were wearing regal garb, Em could recognize the Ruler of Oz. The big green eyes, the brilliant smile, the grace, all the same. How could she have mistaken them?

“It’s me, Aunt Em. Tippetarius - Ozma - me.” They blushed. “When the letter arrived, I thought about helping your Homecoming Day celebration for Dorothy, and I didn’t know if you’d let the Ruler of Oz help on the farm. And I did miss - well, everything you gave me here. Fishing, exploring, just being a child in Oz.”

Em was too flustered to speak. She considered saying one thing, then another, then another, as if her mind was a rabbit trying to bolt in five directions at once, and maybe curtsey as well. 

Finally she settled on the most important thing. “Well. That means you’re staying for supper.” 

***

The Homecoming Day feast, despite its strange and early start, went beautifully. There were cutlet-steaks with savory sauces, roasted corn, piles of biscuits with honey-butter and jam, sticks of rock candy, tarts and cookies and great juicy slices of melon, and perfect berry pies. 

The Wizard revealed his newest invention, for seeing at a far distance, and they took turns calling up Ev and and Ix, cheering at the hellos from friends they hadn’t seen in a long time. Uncle Henry brought Dorothy a set of wondrous flags in every color of the rainbow, that he said had come from friends of hers in a far-off land. 

There were a few minor recriminations, from Dorothy to Ozma over the need to _please leave a note at least_ , and from Em to Henry about _just ‘cause I’m provincial doesn’t mean you have to spoon-feed me news about our dear ones_ , but everything was all made up by the time the pies came out. 

Dorothy and Ozma and the whole parade waved goodbye at sundown, heading down the road to the City with firefly-lanterns glowing the whole way. Sitting together in the silver chariot, Ozma curled their arm around Dorothy’s waist, a little blue ribbon strung with buttons in their hand.

Dorothy yawned sleepily and nestled into Ozma’s shoulder. “What did Aunt Em whisper to you when we left?”

Ozma looked back to where the cottage was disappearing in the twilight. On the porch, silhouetted against the warm glow within, Aunt Em and Uncle Henry stood arm in arm, watching them go. “That no matter what name I wear, I’m always welcome to come home.” 


End file.
